


Kindaichi's Day Out

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, Genderfluid Kindaichi, Mild KinKuni vibes, Shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 04:53:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6142114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kindaichi can't bring themselves to shop in a proper store for the femme things they need and desire, but with the help of some friends, that lack of confidence withers and dies. In its place is a new outlook and a new Kindaichi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kindaichi's Day Out

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt from Tumblr ask: I wish you would write a fic where Hanamaki and Matsukawa decide to take Kindaichi in hand and buy him some decent clothes

A hand grips Kindaichi’s shoulder as they finish changing after practice. The first years have all scattered, leaving only Kindaichi, Kunimi, and the captains, who are raucously shouting at each other through the shower stall walls. Something about meatbuns . . . whatever.

Kindaichi is grateful that Kunimi stays late after practice to accommodate Kindaichi’s growing discomfort with changing in front of the entire team. So they both stay late in the gym while the rest of the team heads to the locker room, under the guise of Kunimi practicing setting to Kindaichi. Their captain approves because the new first year setter hasn’t proven to hold a lot of promise in terms of development and the team does have a reputation to uphold.

Jumping at the unexpected touch, Kindaichi wheels around to see who else is lurking despite the room being previously empty. A wide smile spreads across their lips when they see a couple of familiar — if a little out of place — faces.

“Hanamaki-san! Matsukawa-san!” Kindaichi squeaks, darting to their feet for a bow. “What are you doing here?”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa share twin grins that Kindaichi knows spells out mischief of the highest order, but their heart confusion is obvious when the pair chime in unison, “Shopping!”

Beside them, Kunimi elbows Kindaichi and says, “They’re here to tell you what I’ve been telling you for months.”

Kindaichi frowns. “Huh?”

Matsukawa ruffles Kindaichi’s hair before reaching into their bag and plucking out the rather rumpled garment they had planned on wearing home, shaking his head as it unfurls. The dress is black and long, almost floor length, with a pattern of tiny pink carnations. “Oh, Yuu-chan, this won’t do at all. Why don’t you let your senpai show you how it’s done?”

Worrying their bottom lip, Kindaichi looks back and forth between their former upperclassmen and Kunimi, who gives them an encouraging nod. Even Kindaichi would admit that the dress is not the best thing they own, but they haven’t worked up the courage to go into any shop to buy femme clothes in any other shop than the second-hand store near their house with an almost-blind checkout clerk. And it isn’t as if many things fit them at their height and build.

But the faces surrounding Kindaichi are earnest, and while Hanamaki and Matsukawa are jokesters, they don’t believe Kunimi would allow it for a moment to play a prank that pointed and nasty. With a sigh, they say, “Okay. Where are we going?”

“Next town over,” Matsukawa explains. “Kunimi said you aren’t too comfortable shopping for stuff like this, so we’re going to go to the next city over so you don’t have to worry about seeing anyone you know.”

Kindaichi can’t help but smile. “Wow. Thanks, guys.” More emotion than they would have thought bottles up in their throat. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Yes would do,” Hanamaki says, handing over the offending garment to Kindaichi. “Get dressed. We have a train to catch.”

The train ride takes over an hour during the Saturday bustle, but the group still has a bulk of the afternoon to spend shopping in the sizable department store they find in Ishinomaki. Kindaichi draws a few startled glances, but shoulder to shoulder with Hanamaki and Matsukawa, with Kunimi leading the way, their insecurity withers under their confident strides towards the —

“Oh, god,” Kindaichi gasps as they halt outside a lingerie shop. “Please say we’re not going in there.”

Matsukawa claps Kindaichi on the shoulder and says, “Panty lines, my friend, are a bastard.” With that, he leads Kindaichi into the shop without Hanamaki and Kunimi, for which Kindaichi is strangely grateful. They feel less like a herd of teenage boys joyriding through somewhere their mothers wouldn’t want them to be and more like a person shopping for necessities.

Steering Kindaichi away from a daunting sprawl of bras and underwear they don’t think is capable of holding what it needs to be holding, Matsukawa stops in front of a small section in the far corner. It doesn’t take long for Kindaichi to see why. “Oh!”

“The company that makes these was founded by a trans woman,” Matsukawa explains. “I did some research and found out which stores carried them, so you could get a few pairs to feel better about how you look in something a little tighter than grandma’s pillowcase.” With a chortle, he plucks at the sleeve of Kindaichi’s dress. “They add a little bit of hip and butt, but keep everything in where it belongs.”

Even though their face is flaming red, Kindaichi smiles as they reach out and touches one of the admittedly pretty pairs of underwear. “These are perfect.” With the help of the conversion chart on the back to figure out their size, Kindaichi selects three pairs in varying colors and prints, their favorite being a purple plaid pattern. They added a few camisoles and jellies to their basket before heading to the checkout.

They’re grateful when the cashier scanned their purchases with not so much as an odd look, nor commenting when Matsukawa slapped down a handful of cash before Kindaichi could even locate their debit card.

“Have a nice day!” he said, collecting the bag and a sputtering Kindaichi as he corralled them out of the shop.

“Matsukawa-san! You don’t need to do that. I —”

A finger on their lips stops Kindaichi’s spiel in its tracks. “But I want to. Just promise to take lots of selfies and send them to me and we’ll call it even.”

Kindaichi doesn’t comment that they’ve never taken a selfie in their whole life, but this promise is easy to make. “I will.”

They meet up again with Hanamaki and Kunimi, who are just polishing off an unholy large ice cream sundae, and head to the next stop: a plus-size store. Kindaichi raises a brow. “Um, what are we doing here? If anything, I’m probably  _too_ skinny.”

“But you  _are_ tall,” Kunimi says as they head straight back for hosiery. “On days you’re feeling femme, does your leg hair bother you?”

Kindaichi bites their lip and nods. “Yeah.”

“Then why don’t you shave?” 

“Because it bothers me when it’s  _not_  there on other days,” Kindaichi admits.

Kunimi nods. “That’s why we’re here. If we get you a good pair of tights, your legs will be smooth when you want them to be and rough when you don’t.”

Comprehension dawning, Kindaichi’s excitement starts to bubble over yet again. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

With an eye roll, Kunimi smacks Kindaichi on the shoulder. “Because you keep thinking you have to do this alone. That’s what friends are for, Shallot-head.”

On a high they can’t remember feeling in ages, Kindaichi accepts Kunimi’s assistance in locating tights that both fit their long legs and narrow waist, coming out of the shop victorious with two pairs of snag-proof tights and minimal objection when Kunimi insisted on paying.

There is a brief recess as, at Kunimi’s suggestion, Kindaichi heads to the single-stall family restroom for privacy and changes into some of their new undergarments, complete with hose. Already, there is a feeling of euphoria building in their belly as they take in this new silhouette. Where straight hips used to be, there are now subtle curves. A once flat chest now hints at a subtle feminine vibe.

For the first time in a long time since Kindaichi discovered their identity as a genderfluid person, they felt  _good_.

The last stop is a store Kindaichi has noticed but never considered stepping into, mostly due to its overwhelming size, array of colors, and sprightly pop music as a backdrop to its thin blonde mannequins. “Here?”

Hanamaki nods. “Yep. This shop is perfect because everything will come in your size, and it’s not expensive to get more than just a couple of things.”

More nervous than at any other point in this outing, Kindaichi takes a deep breath and plunges into the shop while a shaking hand clings to one of Kunimi’s. Kunimi looks over at them with a rare resolution in his features as he says, “You can do this.”

“I can do this,” Kindaichi parrots. “Yeah.”

Hanamaki all but drags Kindaichi over to a rack of skinny jeans. “These would look great on you!” He sorts through the array of sizes, glancing back and forth between Kindaichi and the size tags, before selecting two. “One of these should be the right size.”

Matsukawa bobs his head in approval before producing a blouse in a shade of blue that pleases Kindaichi on sight, especially the pert little bow perched directly below the bust.

“This is a baby doll cut,” Matsukawa explains. “Since you don’t have much of a waist, it’ll help give you one.”

Kindaichi takes the hanger and squints at it, and as Matsukawa speaks, the wisdom of his words sinks into their brain. “That’s so cool!”

Moving on to the next section, Kindaichi also adds a khaki tennis skirt and a cream-colored sweater to the pile of things to take to the dressing room, all the while listening to a barrage of explanations of why certain cuts work for someone of their height and shape from all three of their shopping companions.

Almost dizzy from information overload, Kindaichi is reeling by the time they arrive at a corner of the store devoted solely to dresses. That’s when they see it. When their jaw drops in awe, Kunimi gives them a knowing smile and gently eases their shopping basket from their hands. “Go on,” he urges.

Like a moth to a flame, Kindaichi drifts toward it with an outstretched hand, and when they reach it, the soft caress of cotton jersey under their palm feels like heaven. There is nothing Kindaichi doesn’t adore about this dress. The hem falling to what they’d gauge to be a little lower than mid-thigh, it hangs in soft ripples that make Kindaichi want to hold it up to their chest and twirl through the store. The wide-set shoulder straps plunge into a sweetheart neckline and an empire waistline. The swirling purple and black print is accentuated and livened by darts of silver threading.

Of course, Kindaichi doesn’t know how they understand these terms until they realize that Hanamaki is narrating them from their left.

“This is a good choice for you. You have great legs and really nice shoulders that will make this look twice as great.”

Kindaichi doesn’t need prompting to make a grab for the first one off the rack they can get to, not even minding the chuckle from Hanamaki as he puts back the one Kindaichi grabs in favor of a different size. “That should be about right.”

Kindaichi almost floats over to the fitting room, eager to tear off the sack of a dress they’re wearing in favor of any single one of these new and stunning items. It’s almost uncanny how well everything fits, and they mentally praise Hanamaki’s eagle eye in selecting the correct size. At first, they think the skirt and paired with the baby doll blouse are their favorite, but they’ve been saving the best for last.

From the moment the jersey dress touches their skin, Kindaichi feels new and alive in ways they can’t possibly articulate. There are no words for the wave of relief, elation, the sheer happiness that boil over and spill out of them as they grant themselves a twirl in front of the full-length mirror.

The person staring back out of the mirror at Kindaichi is almost unrecognizable through the rosy glow of contentment, but they think this person is someone they would really like to keep around.

Uncaring of their dirty Converse, Kindaichi leaves the dressing room and decides to wear the dress out of the store. They can’t bear the thought of parting with it for even a minute. Outside, Matsukawa gives them a nod and a gentle smile, and Hanamaki a toothy grin.

However, Kunimi’s face is red and his eyes diverted directly at the floor, and for the first time during this excursion, Kindaichi feels doubt about someone other than themselves being able to carry on with this. “Do . . . do you not like it?”

Hanamaki chortles. “I don’t think that’s the problem, Yuu-chan.” He shoulder-bumps Kunimi. “Right, Akira-kun?”

Cheeks blazing, Kunimi raises his gaze and fixes Kindaichi with a watery smile. “You look beautiful, Kindaichi.”

With that, he reaches out and takes Kindaichi’s hand and doesn’t let go as they head to the checkout. Kindaichi relegates themselves to a resigned sigh as Hanamaki demands to pay, but starts when the total hiccups down to half price. 

“My sister is the store manager,” Hanamaki explains. “She told me I can shop here as much as I want, probably joking since I live in t-shirts and basketball shorts. Therefore, enjoy the fruits of my petty revenge, my unfairly hot young friend.”

Kindaichi blushes but is grateful to Hanamaki for making the still-extravagant total feel less like charity. They know their friends are just being helpful, but no one has spent this much on Kindaichi in one day in their entire life.

They head toward the exit of the department store, with closing time drawing near, but one last store catches Kindaichi’s eye. Inside, they pick out a few colorful headbands and clip-on earrings, as Kindaichi is not legally old enough to get piercings, nor are they allowed at school.

Humming to himself, Matsukawa fusses over Kindaichi and arranges some of the new accessories before dragging them over to the next door furniture store’s huge mirror in the display window. 

Kindaichi wants to reach out and touch that person they remember from the dressing room, happy to see them again. But then they remember that this image, this euphoria is theirs to keep, and tears well up in their eyes.

Beside them, Kunimi holds out a colorful tube of lip gloss. “I got this while you were picking out earrings. It’s pear flavored.”

Unable to keep from grinning, they take it and apply right there. The soft dash of color adds another dimension to Kindaichi’s face, meshing beautifully with the rouge of joy on their cheeks.

“Thank you,” they gasp, turning to Hanamaki and Matsukawa, as well, who fist bump as they smile at Kindaichi. “All of you. This has been amazing.”

“Nah,” Matsukawa says. “You’ve always been this cute. You just didn’t know it.”

Hanamaki nods. “It’s true. Which is why it was tragic when we noticed you out and about last year, buying that monstrous dress. When we asked Kunimi if you were trans, he wouldn’t tell us at first.”

“I didn’t want to out you,” Kunimi said. “It isn’t my place.”

Matsukawa picks up the explanation. “But we watched you and your moods, how you carried yourself from day to day until we figured out that you were probably more non-binary. It took six months before we could get Kunimi to confirm it.”

“I asked them to give you some time to adjust and grow before they talked to you about it,” Kunimi added. “I hoped you would get comfortable enough to shop for clothes, or at least ask for me to go with you for support. You didn’t, though, so I asked our senpai if they knew how to help you.”

The sheer length of time this trip has been in the making turns Kindaichi’s knees to rubber. “You did all of that for me?”

“Of course,” Hanamaki said, giving Kindaichi’s bare shoulder an affectionate slap. “Who else is going to take care of our favorite kouhai?”

Kindaichi’s entire body buzzes with well-being as they head back to Sendai. They hadn’t planned on shopping or adapting or falling this much in love with themselves, but the experience of this day is something they wouldn’t trade for anything, they think as the train trundles its way back home. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading about my awkward shallot child. ♥


End file.
